


That Dang Song

by Amhpq8_12



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, M/M, Post Season 11, Romance, Santa shows up, Schmoop, True Love, and pushes the boys into love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 10:58:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5537363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amhpq8_12/pseuds/Amhpq8_12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was inspired by a post that I saw on Tumblr about the Christmas song "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer". Dean just wants a regular Christmas, without all the drama. Sam finds a case nearby and drags Dean there. They find out more than they thought and call in Cas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Dang Song

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I just thought I would take a break from all the people and write a quick story. It is my first short work, so please leave comments if you find anything wrong. As always this work is unedited. I do not own Supernatural.

Dean hopped out of the shower and toweled off. 

“Hey, I’ve got a case for us,” Sam said without looking up from his computer. “Right down the road.” 

“What’s it this time?” Dean asked. He had been looking forward to a day or so off for Christmas. Dean knew that Sam had some hangups but to go out of his way to find a case was a little outrageous. “Vampires? Witches? Please tell me its not witches.” 

“Its not witches,” Sam said rolling his eyes. “You know that song about grandma getting run over by a reindeer?” 

“Yeah, now its going to be stuck in my head for days,” Dean said. “What about it?” 

“There’s a town where people are getting killed,” Sam explained, “and the only cause of death listed is flattened.” 

“They’re being steamrolled?” Dean asked in disbelief. “You think that has to do with the song?” 

“Well from what I can tell, the first person who died was a grandma,” Sam said. “We need to help these people out.” 

Dean sighed. They would never have a normal Christmas. 

**************

"So we're here hunting Santa Claus?" Dean asked dubiously. "You really weren't playing around, huh?" 

Dean received bitch face number twelve. "Yeah Dean, I brought you here on a wild goose chase. That's what I really wanted to do today." 

Dean rubbed his neck. "Really, it sounded better in my head." He pointed at the library. "Do you want to stop here so you can research?" 

"I think we're past that," Sam said. "We've got enough that we can go right to the families to talk to them." 

"Cheery Christmas," Dean muttered. "Let's talk about your dead relatives."

"Someone has to ask these questions, Dean," Sam said shortly. "Would you rather have another person die this year because we suddenly didn't want to ask personal questions?" 

"Shit, Sam." Dean shook his head. "These people that we are going to talk to are going to be celebrating. They're going to have family around. They want to have a day to remember their loved ones without thinking about how they died." 

Sam looked at him. "Is that what you wanted to do? Remember family?" 

"I dunno," he said blushing. "I thought about it. Would that be so wrong?" 

Sam shook his head. "I don't think so." He pointed to a house. "Why don't we solve this case and then we can do that." 

"Good idea," Dean said pulling over. He looked at the house. The house didn't look very festive. Every other house on the block was covered in lights, this one wasn't. "Nice place." 

"Not everyone feels the need to decorate," Sam reminded him. "Come on." 

Dean rolled his eyes. They grabbed their FBI I.D.s and headed up the walkway. Sam knocked on the door. 

A haggard old man answered after several minutes. "Can I help you?" 

"Mr. Murray?" The man nodded. Sam pulled out his badge. "I'm Agent Sheppard. This is my partner Agent Collins." 

Mr. Murray scanned them. "Alright, agents, what can I do for you?" 

"We'd like to talk with you about your wife," Dean said. "We'll only be a few minutes." 

He sighed. "I knew someone would come asking about her sooner or later." He held the door open. "Come on in." 

Sam and Dean joined him in the living room. "This has to do with the others, doesn't it?" 

"Yes," Dean said. "Did you know the other victims?" 

"This is a small town, Agent Collins," Mr. Murray said. "I knew them all. Some better than others." 

"Were you there the night of your wife's death?" Sam asked. 

Mr. Murray nodded. "I was." He pointed at a picture of a younger woman. "We had just celebrated our twentieth wedding anniversary. Jackie was so excited for Christmas, it was her favorite time of the year." 

"Can you tell us what happened?"

Mr. Murray shrugged. "Not much to tell really. I was coming home from work on Christmas Eve. I found her in the street. She'd been dead for a long time." 

"She was trampled?" Dean asked. The old man nodded. "I'm sorry for your loss." He paused. "Did Jackie have any enemies? Or anyone with a grudge against you?" 

"She was one of the nicest people I've ever met," Mr. Murray said. "Everyone loved Jackie." 

"Thank you for your time," Sam said standing up. "We don't want to take up any more of your evening." 

 

****************

"Do you believe him?" Dean asked once they were in Baby. 

"Don't you?" Sam shot back. "Besides who would want to kill someone by stampeding them?"

"That does seem like an awfully hard way to off a person," Dean mused. "Any ideas about who's next?" 

"I think we need to see where all of the deaths are taking place," Sam said. "Then we can see where we're going to be tonight." 

"You really think someone is going to die tonight?" Dean frowned. "Sam, these deaths didn't occur each year. From what I've seen they've been sporadic at best. One every two to five years. Nothing could happen tonight." 

"That's why we need to be prepared." 

"Fine," Dean growled. They drove back to the hotel. 

Ten o'clock found them sitting in the car watching a street, the same street Mr. Murray lived on. It seemed that all of the people who died lived on the same street. 'Weird,' Sam had said. 

"We're here waiting for a murderer that may come through tonight?" Dean asked. "What are the odds of this happening?" 

"Why are you so against this?" Sam countered. "You've been against this since the word go and I'm still trying to figure out why." 

"Because we should be celebrating," Dean said. "This is the first time we've been able to do this without a looming threat over our shoulders in years. Why can't we just be normal for one holiday?" 

"Because we're not normal," Sam yelled. "You've pounded that into my head for years. We're hunters, we're Men of Letters. We don't get to stop doing this just because it's a holiday." 

"We can talk a break once in a while," Dean protested.

"No we can't because there's something us there trying to kill people on holidays," the younger Winchester yelled again. Sam slapped him in the chest. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Something like that?" Dean said pointing out the window. He could barely get the words out. 

Sam nodded. Coming to a landing on the empty street was a sleigh pulled by honest to God reindeer. A large man in a suit laughed and hopped out lugging a large bag. 

"Is he seriously carrying a bag?" Dean asked flabbergasted. 

"I think he is," Sam said. "Let's go." 

They jumped out of the car and followed the large 'Santa' to a nearby house. They spread out trying to cover the escape routes. 

"Santa," Sam yelled. He had his pistol trained on the man, or rather being. 

"Sam Winchester," the thing said. "What are you doing here? And why are you pointing a gun on me?" 

"Does it make him naughty?" Dean quipped. 

"Dean Winchester," the Santa laughed. "I always loved your sense of humor."

"You've been listening to me?" 

"Dean, I'm Santa." He turned and looked at them. The man's beard was pearly white and his cheeks were red. "I know everything." 

"Santa's a myth," Dean protested weakly. 

"Do I look like a myth?" 

“Cas, we need you!” Dean yelled. A flap of the wings indicated that the angel had arrived. 

“What is it now?” Cas asked. “This is a very busy time for us.” 

“There’s a Santa?” Dean asked pointing to the large bellied man. 

"Well yes," Castiel said. He looked at the trio. "The only thing I am unfamiliar with is Bigfoot.” 

 

**************

 

“You never told us Santa was real!” Dean said. He turned to Sam. “Wouldn’t you want to know?” 

Sam shrugged. “It never really mattered to me, Dean. You were always the person giving me the gifts anyways.” 

“Dean always did want to take care of everyone,” Santa agreed. “One of the best men I’ve had the pleasure of watching grow from child to adult.” 

Dean stood in stunned silence. The fat guy was more proud of him than his own father. ‘How does the world get so screwed up?’ 

“Castiel, angel of the Lord,” Santa studied Cas, “you have done so much for this world. As a thank you, I will grant you your deepest wish. You deserve a happy ending.” 

“Wish? What wish?” Sam asked. Santa just winked and disappeared. 

It took Dean awhile to regain control of his thoughts. “So there really is a Santa?” Dean asked with a raised eye brow. “I thought he was a myth.” 

“You see so many things that most people couldn’t believe and Santa throws you for a loop?” Castiel asked. “Yes, Dean, there is really a Santa.” 

“And he delivers gifts to children?” 

“After a fashion,” the angel said. “When the world’s population wasn’t so high, yes he did. Now that there are so many people, he only goes to the most needy children.” He looked out the window. “He does good things, you’re not to kill him.” 

“Okay,” Sam said, “but what about the people that he’s run down? Don’t you think that he should know better than to do that?” 

“The people that he’s killed were accidents,” Cas admitted. “None of them deserved to die but steering is so hard with a sleigh. Santa does good. Can we just leave it at that?” 

“Yeah, buddy, I think we can,” Dean said. 

 

***********

They picked up Chinese food since it was the only thing that was still available. Dean might have gone overboard, but hell he’d just learned that Santa was real. He really felt gipped that his dad had told him Santa was fake. 

“What are you thinking about so hard over there?” Sam asked from the passenger seat. Cas stared at Dean in the rearview mirror. 

“Santa?” Dean repeated. “Did you miss the fact that Santa appeared? I mean, he was right there. All these years and I thought he was fake.” 

“You are taking this harder than finding out that angels were real,” Cas observed. “At least you did not try to stab him.” 

“That would have been bad,” Sam agreed. “Then who would be stuck delivering all the gifts? Would Dean? Just like in that movie where the guy kills Santa and then has to take over. That would be hilarious.” 

“I’m not jolly enough for you?” Dean asked with a frown. “I’m jolly. I’ve practically got jolly coming out my ass.” 

Sam huffed and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Dean. You’d be perfect, leaving a machete under the tree with a bow. Flying the Impala all over the world. I can see it now.” 

“Baby and I don’t fly,” Dean said rubbing his hand over the dashboard. “We drive.” 

“No, Sam,” Cas interrupted. “It does not work like that. If you had killed Santa, another being would have taken over yes. But it would not have been either you or Dean. It would have been either an elf or a fairy.” 

“Dean’s short enough to be an elf,” Sam laughed. 

“Laugh it up, Samantha,” Dean bitched. “Just because you’re moose man over there doesn’t mean the rest of the world is short. You’re just abnormally tall.” 

He and Cas left Sam to haul the food to the room. ‘That’s what you get for being a smartass.’ Dean mentally high fived himself. 

Dean watched his angel eating. Once Cas had become an angel again, he had lost the sense of urgency that most humans had for eating. Now, he just consumed the food to sample the different flavors they contained. It was adorable. 

“Dean, what is it?” Cas sat his food down. “Am I doing something wrong?” 

“No, you’re doing everything absolutely right,” Dean choked back more that was threatening to spill out. “You’re perfect.” 

“What?” Sam asked. His eyes were wide. “Dean—“ 

“I mean it,” Dean continued. “Cas, you are one of the most important people in my life. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I love you.” 

“I love you too, Dean,” Cas said astonished. 

***************

Dean pulled Cas into his lap. He ran a hand up the angel’s neck and pulled him down into a kiss. 

“I’m going to leave you two alone,” Sam muttered from the doorway. “I’ll get myself another room.” 

“That’s a great idea, Sammy,” Dean said brightly. “Merry Christmas!” 

“You too, Dean,” Sam said shaking his head. He shut the door, leaving the two alone. 

“What are we going to do now?” Cas asked. 

Dean nibbled on his ear. “How about I show you?” he suggested. He couldn't believe the giggle that came out of Cas. Miracles never ceased. 

A hour later, Dean relaxed into the mattress. Cas was pressed into his side. It seemed that the angel didn’t have anywhere he wanted to be soon. 

“What did he grant you, you know, earlier?” Dean asked. His nose was pressed into Cas’s shoulder. He loved the smell of his angel. 

“He knew what my deepest wish was,” Cas explained. 

“What was that?” 

“I wanted you to get over your fear of being with me,” he said softly. “But I didn’t want you to be forced into anything. I know how well you do with that.” 

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, I can see that.” He laid there for a second. “I’m glad that you wished for that. I’ve been wanting this for a long time.” 

“Me too,” Cas agreed. “I told you he did good things for people.” 

“Yes, you did,” Dean whispered. “Santa really is a good guy.” He turned out the light. "Merry Christmas, Cas." 

"Merry Christmas, Dean."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! What did you think? Please send comments and kudos.


End file.
